
Class ::es__3 

Book lLA 

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Poems 



By 



Adolph Newman 



Buffalo, N. Y, 

Adolph Newman 

1913 






COPYRIGHT, 1913, 
BY ADOLPH NEWMAN 



^CI.A347543 



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LATEST POEMS 



LATEST POEMS 



On Life 

A Poem in Four Parts 
The First Part 

The world is dark, for Misery dwells therein. 
All creatures drag their lives out in torture; 
The demons Hunger and Discomfort reign, 
And Man, thinking on Death, shivers from fear. 

No man knoweth how came the universe — 
Man hath conceived a god the creator; 
But how came he — this god, the creator? 
And the existence of space (wherein all is) ? 
Alas, no man can tell. 

My Soul, rise thou o'er superstition and speak 
Ere death render speaking impossible, 
For thou shalt soon depart this life's living 
And pass into the rest thou longest for. 
And Clay that now givest me name on earth, 
O'erflowing measure of mortal suffering. 
Thou wilt decay and crumble into dust. 
And vanish from the face of existence. 
Without recall; for there is none with power 
To bring thee back into this life again: 
Once having been, and being gone, then thou 
Art gone for evermore — so should it be. 



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Thou art that all-confounding mystery, 
Existence of Space and Form without an end 
And no beginning; thou hast through all time 

been, 
And since thou art, thou must for ever be. 

Humanity's belief is beautiful. 

And beautiful to see their faith in God 

As, suffering all the woes of life, they go 

Through endless time a sad and care-worn race. 

Their one hope. Heaven, a wondrous paradise, 

To which the soul ascendeth (so *tis said) 

To know no more the unrest and pain of earth 

But live for aye and evermore content. 

There is a tale so beautiful and sad. 
Which came from out the mystic mind of man 
Long, long ago when pondering on all 
Life's mysteries. — The tale sayeth that God 
Created all the heavens and the earth. 
And many creatures to inhabit land and sea. 
And man he made to rule over them all. 
And all should live, and procreate their kind. 

And man he made to rule over them all 
And make of earth a beauteous dwelling-place 
For all thereon that were and that should be. 
For none should die, but contented live for aye. 
One man he made, and Adam, he was man — 
In his own likeness God created him; 
Woman he made, and Eva was woman — 
As mate for Adam God created her. 



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And on these two the living God bestowed 
The breath of life, both in a garden placed, 
Man and woman, to live therein in peace. 
And in their love to generate mankind. 
And in the Garden of Eden was a tree 
The fruit whereof he bade them not to eat — 
To eat thereof meant death and sin and pain 
For them and all the generations unborn. 

So lived they a while in the beautiful Garden of 

Eden, 
So lived they a while in innocence and peace; 
There was trust 'twixt them and all animate 

creatures that breathed. 
For their souls were young and they knew not 

how to kill. 

They knew no sorrow, no suffering in beautiful 

Eden, 
They knew no shame, even though they wandered 

naked; 
Joy and content their lot in beautiful Eden 
Till Satan came, and lured them to their fall. 

For Satan came, and he came in the guise 
Of the poor snake, and lured them on to eat 
Of that most tempting fruit forbid by God — 
The fruit of knowledge near the Tree of Life. 

And thus they lost their earthly paradise, 
For they were banished by God, their creator. 
Were driven forth to live long life of pain 
In the wilds of earth, ne'er to return again; 



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For angels with great swords guarded the way 
'Gainst their return, so that they might not eat 
The fruit upon Eden's most wondrous tree — 
The Tree of Life — and thereby Hve for aye. 

As punishment for having thus beguiled 
Adam and Eve, God did the serpent curse, 
Decreed for it a life of misery 
Because Satan had lured them in its guise. 
For the woman much sorrow God decreed, 
Pain and sorrow for her in bearing child; 
For Adam also God sorrow decreed — 
He cursed the ground to make his toil harder. 
And man should die because he had eaten 
Fruit of the Tree of Knowledge in Eden — 
Man made of dust should unto dust return. 
And never more behold the face of God. — 

Ages have passed since the sad tale was writ, 
And many have mourned for its lost Eden 
When the sadness of living their souls opprest, 
And they knew not they mourned for a thing un- 
true; 
For the tale is a thing from the mind of man, 
God as conceived therein is but man: 
Then, why do ye mourn, O ye foolish peoples? 
Mourn ye no more for a thing untrue ! 

God — ye do call him almighty, all-wise 
Lord of the Universe all-merciful, 
Just — and alone in the wondrous pity 
That embraceth all that in life have being: 



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Then, wherefore a tale of a god unjust, 

A paradise with temptation therein 

And an evil spirit conspiring to win 

Two mortal beings created by God 

With intent they should fall (for if one all-wise, 

A god knowing all that was and to be. 

Gave them life thus, then created he them 

With intent they should fall) ? Hence such a god 

As the tale telleth of is a god unjust. 

And many things there are prove it untrue: 
The tale sayeth they should have lived for aye 
Had they not sinned — which were impossible. 
For the flesh of man decays, and then he dies. 
Another thing there is proves it untrue : 
Woman in bearing child doth suffer pain. 
Which Cometh not that it was e'er ordained, 
But naturally, nor could come otherwise. 
All in the flesh are creatures that must die. 
And while they live suffer the pain of flesh; 
And none have lived that were exempt from 

pain. 
From pain or death — this is beyond all power. 

Thou Cause of earth's existence, whom man hath 

named 
Great God almighty, all-merciful, all-wise — 
Lord and Creator of the Universe, — 
Thou hast no rival, an enemy to dispute 
With thee thy power; yea, wherefore shouldst 

thou. 
Creator all-wise, create such a one? 



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To create the universe and the source of life, 
The source from which have sprung countless beings, 
On earth mankind and the lower species. 
All that inhabit the waters and land — 
To create all this in its wondrous even order, 
Which through time infinite its order hath retained. 
Was a work almighty beyond mortal conception — 
Yea, a work almighty, but life is sad! 

Look down on earth ! and see what misery 
The state of life to all its creatures is; 
Yea, all is one long horror of oppression. 
Which seems as if it would but can not end! 

The creatures of the forest live in fear. 
With fear come forth to still their painful hunger — 
Some with the food that from the earth doth spring, 
Some with the blood and flesh they can obtain. 
Thus each one lives its bitter span of life. 
Knowing no rest from Nature's cruelties. 
Pursues or is pursued till it expires. 
And man pursues and murders all he can. 

So is it with earth's winged creatures, birds : 
Each lives in fear, suffers throughout its span, 
Pursues or is pursued till it expires. 
And man pursues and murders all he can. 

So is it in the waters of the earth: 

Each life therein suffers throughout its span. 

Pursues or is pursued till it expires. 

And man pursues and captures all he can. 



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The creatures of the marshes, plains, and moun- 
tains 
Suffer alike this harsh and certain fate. 
Pursue or are pursued till they expire. 
And man pursues and murders all he can. 

In every land, in every habitation 
Creatures of blood and flesh are imprisoned, 
Penned up in walls to await man's murderous 

hand — 
Man slaughters them and eats the flesh for food. 

I see the gentle, patient creatures toiling 

All their lives long for man . . . they suffer 

much — 
Hunger and cold and toil beyond bearing; 
Within their eyes I see reproach 'gainst life. 

Man lives in fear, unrest, disquietude. 
With dread awaits his end, knowing not what 
His fate will be as in the grave he lies : 
Oblivion, Heaven, or Hell. 

And thou, O Ruling Spirit of all life! 
Thou wanderest through the universe and seest 
Thy myriad worlds of creatures suffering 
Under life's tortures — thou seest how sad 
And how futile even have been thy works 
For ages and ages here on the earth: 
The inhabitants live not in rest, in peace, 
But in sorrow, oppression, and strife. 



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The Second Part 

Life is indeed a grim reality, 

So grim I wonder men still persist 

So stupidly in wishing to live for aye, 

Knowing themselves they could not bear 

Eternity; 

Knowing themselves the body decays 
As it grows older — crumbles into dust 
As it reposes in the grave, and then 
Is gone beyond hope of resurrection; 

Knowing themselves Oblivion is 
The fairest end mind can conceive — 
Oblivion! ah! is like a dreamless sleep 
Untroubled by consciousness, enduring for aye. 

Go, contemplate the skies by day or night, 
And through thy soul will pass the sad conviction 
That the life in thee is bound to earth, 
Thereon to expire when thy breath is gone. 

Convinced thou wilt be that no substance in thee 
Hath power to soar into the skies; 
Say, thinkest thou truly, if there were such. 
It would wait so long in misery.'^ 

Spirit, forsooth, to exist in thee, 
To wander in heaven when no heaven there is ! 
Seest thou the azure of surrounding skies? 
That all is space, illimitable space. 



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Hence all things prove on earth here is the life 
Wherein all men should find their paradise : 
The earth so fair, man endowed with reason 
Make possible the dream of paradise. 



Perhaps I am that super super-man 

Of whom many have prophesied, yet none 

Amongst this present generation of men 

In their great blindness may acknowledge me, 

Because I prove the vanity of life, 

All that exists throughout infinite space, 

Wherein a god enamoured of his work 

Has suffered long that it may still exist; 

Because I shatter men's fond dreams of bliss 

And prove the falsity of their religion, 

Disprove the godhead of their idol, Christ — 

One of the Jews, whom they still persecute. 

Shall I annihilate this life of mine 
In one moment so that nought shall remain 
Of all that doth comprise my whole being. 
Or wait a while until its course is run? 

Once I am out of this life's agony, 

I do not wish another life to lead. 

Because the heart would soon grow sick once more, 

Opprest with time, and seek oblivion; 

Yet soothing were the knowledge that this life 

Is but a preparation for one to come, 

A nobler life whose span the Creator 

Makes bearable even to the most wise, — 



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A life wherein all sufferings should cease, 
And beings find the happpiness longed for, 
All in the company of those beloved, 
A while in paradise, and then depart. 



In all that time since life in space began, 
I remember not that I have lived before 
The time when first I saw the light of day — 
Alas ! I know too well how life began 
For me: a germ transmitted by my sire 
Found lodgment in the womb of a woman 
And issued thence transformed in wondrous wise 
From almost nought into a living babe. 
Therefore I know I am no more than man. 
An animate creature born to die on earth, 
That in me is no substance that shall live 
After the flesh has been consigned to earth. 

An immortal soul, a spirit doth not enter 

An embryo in the womb of a woman, 

Nor is contained in the germ sent forth by man — 

Such thing, Mankind, is the impossible. 

And man is like a plant, but animate: 
In the beginning a seed, a germ, he grows. 
And subject to the wear of time, decays. 
And when he dies, like plants he perishes. 
And man, like other animal creatures. 
Is skeleton beneath, whose life depends 
On nourishment; this being gone, he dies — 
In death the skeleton changes to dust. 



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It can not be conceived of as otherwise 
Than that a creature being gone is gone 
For evermore, than that its life was but 
The skeleton and flesh, and hence no more. 

Wearied already in my early youth 

Of life, and filled with sadness o*er my fate, 

I asked myself the following question. 

But could not answer it — I was too young: 

In all that time since life in space began 

I remember not that I have lived before 

Here in this world or in any other. 

And, when I die, I know that life shall end 

For my being; yet as I entered life 

Here on the earth and never lived before. 

Is it not possible that after years 

There may be born a person on the earth 

Who clearly will remember all my life 

And have the self -same consciousness in me? — 

Such question were proper were there in man 

A soul immortal, a spirit divine 

That lives after his death; since there is not. 

The hfe in him ends when he dies on earth. 

To reason rightly, let us reason thus: 
The self-same consciousness that is in me 
Is in each one of all the worlds' beings; 
But separate and distinct as being, each 
Therefore is conscious only in himself. 
Begotten in this life, I needs must feel 
Conscious within myself ignorant or wise, 
But being conscious only in myself. 



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That consciousness in me will be no more 

When I am dead : the mind once having been, 

And being gone, is in oblivion; 

All in this life shall be forgotten then. 

Yet each one of the millions that remain, 

And each one of the millions that will come, 

In truth will be a being that is I, 

For consciousness in each one makes all like. 

The self-same wearying consciousness in me 

Is in each one — therefore each one is I; 

What though the features of each one dijffer, 

Consciousness does not — in all it is the same. 

But each mind is a blank ere it begins 

To form within the being of a babe, 

And never having been in life before, 

It can be conscious only from its birth. 

Therefore I know it is impossible 

That any being born hereafter should 

Be conscious in himself of having lived 

The life that I myself have lived on earth. 

And all exist as if but one exists, 

Since each one is conscious only in self; 

Likewise it is as if but one suffers. 

Because each life is separate and distinct. 

I stand before the universe and know 
That here on earth as being am a worm. 
Whose life since birth has been a life of woe. 
Which it perforce must bear, or live no more. 
I contemplate the universe, perceive 
Mine insignificance, yet in my soul 
I bow not to the mighty power thereof 



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In fear — ah, no ! My being bows to none. 
I understand how great is all his work, 
And to its greatness due admiration give; 
Reserve the right, however, to be free — 
Such is my mind, for which I can not help. 

My wonder is that so many exist 

That do admit themselves inferior 

As creatures to their fellow-men because 

Their lot in life is more unfortunate. 

Why can not men perceive they all are like.? 

x^like they all are flesh, alike they die; 

Hence all men are equal except that some 

Are fortunate and wise, and others not. 



The Third Part 

Life is indeed a grim reality 
To all beings, and there is no exception; 
The Supreme Being is martyred to his work. 
And has been since the time his life began. 
There was a time in the infinitude of time 
When chaos reigned throughout all space; 
No beings existed, not even that god. 
The Supreme Being of this universe. 

This mighty universe of many worlds 
Wherein the earth so long has held its course, 
This universe immense seems immeasurable, 
But beyond it, on all sides, chaos goes on. 
And chaos perchance holds many worlds 
Similar and dissimilar to our own. 



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So far beyond that the Supreme Being 
Of this universe knows nothing thereof. 

And so we conceive that there is no end 
To space or chaos; hence impossible 
For any being that exists therein 
To have caused the existence thereof. 

The power that wanders through the universe, 
The cause of all the worlds that now have being, 
It rose from chaos feeble and afraid, 
But grew in might, and then the world conceived. 
We can conceive that many beings rose 
From chaos, and that one became their head, 
Grew mightier than all others and conceived 
The world and with their help created it. 
And Reason says that it is possible 
That all the worlds in space did come by chance; 
Yea, possible that e'en through chance remains 
The even order of the universe. 

And life goes on, but if prolonged grows stale — 
Beings grown old, wise, and wearied know this; 
The Supreme Being, he is supreme — but yet 
The greatest sufferer of all beings. 

He suffers ennui, illimitable ennui. 

The like no mortal soul has ever known; 

He has suffered long — centuries on centuries — 

And will expire of his own accord. 

For he longs for the sleep of Oblivion, 
And when he is ready to enter therein. 



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Will he destroy all the work of the universe, 
Or prepare another to take his place? 
Perhaps this has happened full many a time, 
That the kingdom of space, like the kingdoms of 

earth. 
Has known in its time different rulers; 
And if not, then why does he wait? 

Then why does he wait, since he knows all's in 

vain? 
Waits he because he has set himself the task 
Of making perfect his myriad worlds 
(For they are not yet perfect — consider the earth) ? 
Or does he wait because he hopes to solve 
That confounding mystery, existence of space? 
But, no! even he must perceive that this 
To him and all beings shall remain unknown. 
Whatsoever the aim that sustains him to live 
In his awful ennuiy once he is gone, 
He will be as he was ere he did exist. 
He will be as if he had never been. 

We know, then, that life is a passing breath, 

A state wherein beings feel opprest. 

In which we grow wearied after a time 

Here on earth and wish we had ne*er been born. 

We exist for a time, and then we die. 

And once we are gone, we shall know no more. 

We shall be as we were ere we were born — 

To us all existence will exist no more. 



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The Fourth Part 

Earth viewed from afar appears like a grain 
In comparison with the surrounding skies; 
The inhabitants hereon can not even be seen — 
So small is the earth in the realm of space; 
And pitiable seems the existence on earth, 
Its inhabitants but feeble creatures, 
Mere transitory atoms creeping in life 
Generated long since by heat from the sun. 

Man in his naked state is not beautiful 
Nor too repulsive to the esthetic sense; 
Human bodies are flesh, and as such the best 
That Nature on earth has ever produced. 
Though the manner in which mankind are born 
Is the manner in which animals are born, 
And to the soul must seem hideous and low, 
Fair Reason admits that it must be so. 

Whether men were created outright or not. 
And if viewed from afar seem like swarms of 

flies, 
They now exist and are earth's highest creatures, 
And highest perchance in the universe. 
For man is a being endowed with reason. 
The soul in him makes him more than brute; 
However small, then, as an organism, 
His faculties prove him inferior to none. 
Multitudinous are his languages. 
And wonderful his creative power; 
All manner of beauteous and useful works 
Denote his greatness as a being of flesh. 



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The soul — the mind in his being, 

By this he can feel the greatest joys, 

The greatest agonies — it is the soul, 

With its power of thought, that proves him great. 

But earth as yet is a place of unrest; 
All men are not noble, too many are weak, 
Millions on millions are tortured creatures, 
Live out their lives in misery and fear. 
Men wish to progress and attain the best, 
But nations are jealous of one another; 
The only trust 'twixt them is that inspired 
By armaments. 

For ages and ages this life has gone on. 
But none of earth's peoples have lived it aright; 
Yet, methinks, as this is an enlightened age. 
Humanity soon should attain the goal. 

To live it aright, then. Humanity, purge 

Yourselves first of all superstitious beliefs, 

Men that are wise know that ye have been duped 

By dreamers of old to believe many lies. 

All ye that believe your God lived on earth 

As mortal man to redeem you from sin. 

Or believe that he conversed \\^th Moses of old. 

Are children still. 

For Christ was no more than mortal man, 
The natural offspring of man and woman. 
By chance or design chosen to fill 
The role of Redeemer, Savior of Man. 



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The dreamers of old had prophesied 
That God, the creator of Adam and Eve, 
Would send in the world his heavenly son 
The race of mankind to redeem from sin 
That Adam and Eve had brought in the world 
By tasting the fruit of knowledge in Eden; 
And therefore we know that Christ was but man. 
Because we have proven that story untrue. 

Christ was indeed a self -deluded man; 
Hailed from his birth as God, he then himself 
Perhaps believed he had been sent 
Into the world and was the son of God. 
We have been told that he worked miracles — 
Miracles ! that we know are impossible. 
No being in this universe could work : 
They are against reason and natural law. 

He died a martyr, expiring on the cross. 

Suffering thereon a greater agony 

Than mortal man has ever known — 

Man of his day was still more brute than man. 

His disciples have said he rose from the grave. 
And in their sight ascended into heaven 
From the Mount of Olives : such statement alone 
Proves false their evidence of other things. 

Ah, wherefore should God, a being inviolate. 
Create to damn, and expire to save? 
Christ's deification and the story of Eden 
Resemble the tales told credulous children. 



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Each being is conscious only in self: 
Its self is one, its sense in one; 
Hence can not be conscious except in self, 
Nor change its shape wherein sense resides. 
Christ, born of woman, therefore was man — 
What its seed was, the plant doth show; 
No being can transfer its being's mind 
To some other — ^it is part of self. 
And self is one. No god exists 
That can be conscious except in self: 
With no exception, then, every being, 
Man or god, exists in one person. 

There is a god who rules the universe. 

One who does not require that ye should live 

In constant fear of him, but as equals 

Assist him in the work here on the earth. 

And thereby gain for all your progeny 

A better life than man so far has known, 

A life without the fear of poverty 

To lead them into crime and black despair. 

Ye are beings whose will to act is free. 
Unhampered by your God, because ye are 
Beings endowed with minds whose qualities 
Enable you to judge 'twixt right and wrong. 
If ye would worship God, ah, worship him 
For qualities a noble mind admires ; 
Ye need not cringe, for ye in life were called. 
And therefore are entitled to be free. 
Rise, then, o*er superstition, ye peoples ! 
Forget its fears (remember ye are free !) ; 



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Relinquish such childish ceremonies 
As baptism, communion, and so on. 



Ah, live a life of purity and reason, 
Be just in all your acts and your dealings — 
Because your lives will end is not a reason 
Ye should dishonor and degrade yourselves. 
Humanity, be humane to all kind. 
Be human in your conduct of this life. 
For many things there are prove ye are not 
Wholly human. 

And it is time that man should be no more 
Child in belief, the dupe of superstition. 
That Reason should guide him, his governments. 
And show all men the way for all their good; 
Show enemies of progress that control 
The wealth of nations they gain nothing by their 
Hoarding of wealth superfluous — they must die: 
Let them dispose of it for all men's good. 

Govern your lands so none need live in want 
Or ignorance — knowledge and comfort can 
Be borne more easily than ignorance 
And discomfort. 

Govern your lands with a just government. 
Its citizens will respect the laws thereof; 
And in default, inflict due punishment 
In order that the state may still go on. 
Make your prisons a home for prisoners, 
And not places unfit for living creatures; 



LATEST POEMS 27 

Be just to men, improve their hearts and minds. 
And liberate them if they can be trusted. 

Martyrs are they that languish long in prisons, 
Confined in stinking cells where vermin feed 
Upon their tortured bodies, — where the gloom 
Of wretchedness despoils the soul of hope. 
Whate'er their crimes or misdemeanors, they 
Atone for them with liberty deprived. 
And should not be misused, for they are men — 
Like all others — whom passion led astray. 
The tortures, wrongs, inhuman cruelties 
On them inflicted denote a brutish land 
Sunken in thought, in mercy far below 
Barbarians. God damns such governments. 



Conquer that instinct of animal being 

To crush and kill all weaker than thyself. 

Inflict on no creatures wounds that will cause 

Them long-drawn agony ere they expire; 

Be man wholly, and not partly a brute, 

O mortal Man! let all thine actions show 

Thou really art a being rational, 

With nought in thee of the irrational. 

For men are brutal that find pleasure in 

Pursuing and killing of animals. 

Which are defenseless; and know that therefore 

It is a sin as great as manslaughter. 

Tear down your slaughter-houses. Humanity! 
And in their stead erect great monuments 



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To inform future generations of your guilt 

And your repentance thereat. . . Consider well 

That meat is flesh, and should not be eaten, 

Because it is disgusting to the soul. 

The part in man that strives to reach Justice: 

Relinquish meat and fish — then progress on. 

A sign of barbarism it is indeed 

Feeling creatures to raise and make suffer — 

How can ye hear their cries under the knife 

And not sicken of your own cruelties ! 

Out of the earth enough nourishment comes — 

The fruit of plants — to satisfy mankind: 

Wherefore, then, Man, persist in swallowing blood, 

Since flesh as food is hurtful to thy health? 

Reformers, men of prestige in the world, 
Redeemers, writers, men of genius. 
All such great men the world has ever known, 
In part were low if they ate meat or fish. 



Ah, live a life of purity and reason. 
Not subject to low passions and desires. 
Which, satisfied, do prove hurtful and vain. 
And plunge the soul into premature gloom. 

Each man should choose his mate and live with 

her. 
Remain loyal to her until he dies; 
Woman abide by her own choice through life, 
And each render the other happiness. 



LATEST POEMS 20 

Man and woman, if reared aright, perceive 
That happiness in lewdness is not found. 
But in the joys of pure companionship, 
Which leaves them both their comeliness and 
strength. 

The wretchedness in homes the world over 
Would soon grow less, and e'en the homes better 
If man and wife would but perceive that they 
Through their desires bring children into woe. 

Let marriage be the foundation of home — 
Destroy it not with senseless theories ! 
Marriage and Home to mankind are their 

strength — 
Endanger these, ye shall have peace no more. 

Better it is indeed to live cleanly, 
Not subject to low passions and desires : 
Passion's a rock to break your strength upon. 
And plunge the soul into premature gloom. 

There is enough of misery without 
The misery in brothels to be seen. 
Whose inmates for their shame are made 

outcasts. 
And soon despair, sicken, and then they die. 

Ah, visit not the brothels of cities! 
Who visit them are proven brutes, not men — 
Made brutes through gluttony or ignorance — 
Gluttons they are — gluttons and vicious men. 



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Lift up thine eyes ! thou Groveler 'fore lust 
In every place where lechery holds sway — 
Behold thy sister leading a forlorn life 
Thou makest worse! Come forth with opened 
eyes. 

Abolish, then, the brothels that are known, 
Nations that do permit them to exist 
Can not progress in morals, but become 
Subject to strifes, eternal discontent. 



Ah, live a life of purity and reason. 
And thus become at last wholly human — 
Humanity! through Purity and Reason 
Ye shall attain the best — Justice and Peace. 
This world, this life are yours, for ye are free. 
As creatures are the highest in all life; 
Consider that your fate could much worse be, 
Yourselves, the world, and all inferior. 

Be thankful, then, that life is as it is. 

That the hope and innocence of youth bring you 

through 
A part of your natural span with ease and joys, 
And leave you strength remaining years to 

bear. 

Be thankful that the earth is as it is. 

And the power man's to make it beautiful 

For all creatures — ^yea, even a paradise 

That those to come shall leave with some regret. 



LATEST POEMS 31 

Be thankful, then, that Ufe is as it is. 
And not eternal, as many would have it: 
Your span just long enough to make you wise 
And wearied enough to think death a release. 

Be thankful that when death comes, ye enter 
Oblivion, which should not your souls dismay; 
Be thankful, when your bodies pass aw^ay, 
Their resurrection is impossible. 

Oblivion is the state to be desired, 
And not a life eternal hereafter: 
Ye could not bear life through eternity, 
Your feeble selves would shrink therefrom — ex- 
pire 

Even in Heaven, that fabulous paradise 
The hopeful soul of mortal man conceives; 
Continual life in paradise were Hell — 
Ah, render thanks that it is but a dream! 



To you that fear that ye shall enter Hell 
I say that ye need have this fear no more. 
Because, like Heaven, it is a fabulous place 
The hopeless soul of mortal man conceives. 

And if my words do not convince you quite, 
For your consolation I will tell you 
That ye in Hell shall not suffer one day, 
Because ye could annihilate yourselves. 



32 LATEST POEMS 

Were there a life for man beyond the grave, 
Then all men would enter the self -same life, 
The Creator, he is just and kind, and knows 
All called in life to its best have the right. 



Believe, Humanity, in a fair god, 

A being who watches over the earth 

To guard it from destruction, one who would 

Fulfill all your desires and ease your pain. 

Oh, lift not up your voice in harsh reproach 
For all the woes and evils ye do bear! 
Remember that your misery is caused 
Not by the acts of God, but those of man. 

Remember that your life is not so long 

That ye of it unjustly need complain; 

The thought of death should bring you strength 

anew 
And fortitude adversity to bear. 

Each day that dawns brings you nearer your end, 
But God has lived for ages patiently; 
Until his worlds are made perfect by men 
He needs must wait in deep anxiety. 

Oh, make of earth a beauteous dwelling-place 
That your children and theirs may live in peace 
And all creatures ! and ye shall have attained 
The noblest end within the reach of man. 



LATEST POEMS S3 

And mourn not needlessly because ye see 
A world of creatures suffer day by day; 
Know that it is as if but one suffers, 
Because each life is separate and distinct. 



II 

All things do change in the course of time: 
The earth, a wilderness long, long ago. 
Has been transformed into a teeming world. 
The rays of the sun striking upon earth 
Generated life over all its space — 
Inferior creatures in water, on land, 
x\nd from such the creature man evolved. 
And as man is now he will perhaps remain; 
We can not conceive a creature of flesh 
Superior to him. 

All things do change in the course of time — 
Man's thought, man's heart, his civilization: 
The time shall come when the earth will be 
A place of peace for its inhabitants; 
A time when all men will be guided by 

reason, 
Each nation perceive the evil of evil, 
That evil actions prove futile and vain. 
Cause it to remain in an unsettled state. 
That justice alone can bring it peace 
From within and without; 
A time when all peoples w^ill have one belief, 
Be troubled no more by superstition. 
As the world has been for many ages. 



34 LATEST POEMS 

The time is coming when men will believe 

That when they die, they shall be no more; 

They will understand that there is in them 

No substance that could live. 

They will understand, when the body is dead. 

That life is dead — when the body is dust, 

That it is gone beyond power of God 

To resurrect it. 

They will understand that it is good 

Their lives end here in this world 

In the moment they breathe no more; 

They will understand that oblivion is 

Far better than eternal life 

In the fairest possible 

Or conceivable paradise. 



Ill 

Thou Ruling Spirit of the universe, 

If thou art he who first began the world. 

Creator of all worlds that now have being, 

I speak to thee: 

For ages and ages hast thou been at work 

Conceiving, creating myriads of worlds; 

The splendor, the grandeur of all thy work 

Sustained thee to live; 

The joy of creating in thee is highest — 

How long shall it last? 

What though men do say a thousand years 

To thee are as is one day to them, 

It is not so; yet were it even so, 

'T would avail thee nought. 



LATEST POEMS 35 

Thou knowest time will for ever go on, 
That thou, a being, must fail at last. 
Thy work of the ages all come to nought — 
Thou yearnest o'er it. 

Thine habitation is the universe: 

Save that thou controllest the springs of the 

world. 
No token of thine existence have we — 
No other token. 

Whate'er thou art, thou art not space: 
Thou art a being inviolable, 
A being immense, else thou couldst not 
Great worlds create. 
Thine habitation is the universe. 
And once I did think thou knowest — what man 
Can not conceive — final limits to space, 
And seekest to fill with one universe 
The whole thereof. 

I contemplate the skies at night, behold 

The arrays of lights — innumerable worlds — 

And knowing they are but a part of thy work, 

I wonder at it. 

So great, so immense is all thy work 

That even to thee it is unknown, 

The number of all that have lived and died 

Since life began. 

Thou beholdest the work of each world's beings, 

The joys, the miseries of all creatures; 

Thou hearest their cries, the groans of the dying. 

Innumerable bodies seest thou change to dust — 



36 LATEST POEMS 

Thou givest no sign of the feeling thou hast 

On seeing all this. 

And men wonder much that thou canst behold, 

Canst bear to behold the suffering in 

The world, and some in their ignorance curse. 

Curse and judge thee for it. 

They know not it is as if one suffers; 

Since each creature is in itself only 

Conscious, that there is therefore little. 

Little suffering. 

Thou, Creator, thou alone must bear 

The greatest agony of soul of all; 

Thou who art wise beyond man's knowledge. 

Thou for thy wisdom and thy godhead. 

Creator, hast suffered how long? 

Knowing, O God, thine endeavors must end. 

Wearied of watching eternally. 

Filled with a longing for rest — and despair. 

Despair o'er the thought of leaving thy work — 

6rreat is thy struggle, majestic, sublime — 

Great is thy struggle with time! 

Great Being, the sadness, the sublimity 

Of it awakens in me wonder — 

And sadness that thou art not immune 

To weariness. . . 

And all in reality is in vain. 

Since those in life go out of it, 

And being gone, know nought of it. 

Are as if they had never been. 

For this I must mourn with thee, O God! 

Must mourn that death is better than life, 



LATEST POEMS 37 

Thy work of the ages must pass away, 
That all is vain. 

Nought, nought in the future avails ! 
Out of life's wearying consciousness, 
Great Being, Creator of many worlds, 
When thou goest, the world shall go. 



IV 

How many out of all the world's millions 
Nearing their death and looking back on life, 
Can truly say: "Life, thou wast beautiful! 
With deep regret I now await mine end."? 
Few! in comparison with the many 
Sad wretched cold and bitter tragic lives, 
Who, nearing death and looking back on life, 
No consolation find in thought of death. 

Religion preaches of eternal hell 
And purgatories . . . and extorts them all- 
Let truth shine in ! so that all of mankind — 
The good, the bad, the indigent, and rich — 
Find consolation in the thought of death. 



One evening a person, crippled — weak. 
Rebuked two others for their gloominess; 
They answered him they had reason therefor, 
Their pessimism was caused by wretchedness. 
He answered them that they should trust in God 
And bear their fate with hopeful, cheerful hearts. 



38 LATEST POEMS 

That all things are ordained for each one's good, 
That he himself was satisfied with life. 

Said one: "Is not such optimism noble 

In one like him, old and possessing nought, 

Who always in his life knew indigence, 

And suffers now?" But "No!" said the other, 

"Ah, no! 'Tis the philosophy of a fool." 



VI 

Again I see as in a frightful dream 

I saw a vision of the world ending: 

The sun darkened, and earth in darkness rolled 

Forlorn in space, and Life perished in cold. 

There was a conflagration in the skies 

When planets meeting were shattered and burned; 

Immense it would have seemed to human eyes, 

'Twas small in space — soon darkness covered all. 

I wonder what betokens such a dream, 
My heart is clouded o*er with many fears; 
But, lo ! a ray of light pierces my brain : 
Forget, O foolish Heart, thy misgivings — 
False are all omens in this world of chance. 



LATEST POEMS 39 



VII 



A Song Sung about Christ 

Solacer, Healer of all the sick, 
Comforter divine in all our woe, 
Inspirer of peace in all sad hearts, — 
We wait thy coming, O Jesus, Lord! 
For thou art one whom all revere. 
And see with longing eyes. 

O woman that mournest for thy son. 
Ye fathers, ye women, and children all. 
All ye afflicted and downtrodden, — 
Be solaced by Christ, for he is here ! 
And he is one whom all revere, 
And seek in troubled times. 



40 LATEST POEMS 



vm 



America 

O thou my native Land ! 
Land of my home, in thee 
May Peace for ever dwell, 
Sweet Peace and Liberty! 
America, I stand, 
A loyal son to thee. 
To serve thee always well 
For Peace and Liberty. 

Peace-loving Land, there is 
No greater land than thou — 
Amongst the nations shine 
For evermore as now! 
In all the world there is 
Honor shown unto thee — 
Honor! be always thine. 
And Peace and Liberty! 



LATEST POEMS 41 



IX 



Spring-time in the City 

The city resounds with happiness 

Because the Winter is gone, 
The Winter with all his harrowing cares — 

All rejoice that he is gone. 
Benumbed beasts feel the grateful warmth 

Of the brightly shining sun; 
They remember days and nights of cold, 

And know the worst is done. 

The city resounds with happiness. 

Again little birds do sing. 
Again flowers bloom and trees blossom. 

And the little birds do sing. 
The Winter, with all his cares, is gone, 

Merry folks chat in the sun; 
They remember days and nights of cold, 

And know the worst is done. 



42 LATEST POEMS 



Why should the friends of youth in anger part? 
Why should the friends estranged no more return? 
Why are they still making a sad pretense 
If separation fills their hearts with pain? 
The misery of one will be no more, 
The spirit of the other soon be changed, 
Grief and affliction darken all his days — 
The days go by! when will the friends return? 

Be loyal to the spirit of Friendship, 
Let not a thought evil its pureness mar ! 
Vile meanness and hypocrisy can not 
Deceive the hearts of friends — Friendship has eyes. 
Because Misunderstanding stept between 
Them in a moment madness filled their brains 
Is not a reason they should always be 
Parted. . . When will the friends return? 

And those that know me think they know me, but 

I would wager mine all they know me not : 

In my sad heart, for all its miseries. 

There glows a kindly light for every one. 

And you that once as friends lodged long therein. 

And long have been as enemies to me, 

I love you not, dear friends, for what ye are — 

Ah, no ! — but what ye were once unto me. 

The days go by! when will the friends return? 
Will they return again? No, nevermore 
Will the friends of youth return when they are gone, 
Each lying in the cold stillness of death. 



LATEST POEMS 43 



XI 

When we are truly wise at last, 
Then, only then do we prize their love, 

Dear friends and kin : 
Then we love all for their own sakes, 
Stop to caress the kitten and dog, 

All creatures that we know. 

We think on those that we have known 
That died with their love left unreturned, 

And we must mourn: 
Gone for evermore are they — ah, gone ! 
Though to regret and repine is vain. 

We can not help mourning. 



XII 

Let us renew the friendship of youth, 

I have a desire to see thy face : 
Once more, ere they sink for ever in sleep. 

Let the comrades meet! 
I wonder why is it that always too late 

We mortals perceive how blind we are: 
Abandon dear friends, all those beloved, 

And regret when too late! 



44 LATEST POEMS 



XIII 

Fill high the goblets up with wine! wine! 

Fill high the goblets up ! 

Sad hearts awhile would forget 

Hardships and cares await. 

Fill high the goblets up with wine ! wine ! 

Fill high the goblets up ! 

Let Music's most enchanting strains 

Transport our hearts and souls ! 

Fill high the goblets up with wine! wine! 

Fill high the goblets up ! 

Sad hearts awhile would forget 

Hardships and cares await. 

Fill high the goblets up with wine! wine! 

Fill high the goblets up ! 

Ah, let the hours of the night 

Bring us felicity! 

Fill high the goblets up with wine! wine! 

Fill high the goblets up ! 

Let music and red wine be here. 

The golden minutes fleet! 

Fill high the goblets up with wine! wine! 

Fill high the goblets up ! 

Ah, in the hours of the night 

Let us forget our gloom ! 



LATEST POEMS 45 



XIV 



Poisoned Wine 

With thirsting lips we'll drink the wine 
That sends us hence! 
Pour the libation in each glass, 
Canst thou not see we wait, we pine, 

O Satyr dense? 
*Tis done! 'tis done! filled is each glass, 
And standing up we'll drink the wine 
That sends us hence! 
We drink ! we drink ! empty each glass 
Of sparkling, soothing, poisoned wine 
That sends us hence! 
Our hearts shall sleep ! . . . Slowly we pass 
Into oblivion . . . more wine ! more wine ! 

O Satyr dense! — 
Too late ! too late ! fallen is each glass . . . 
Our eyelids droop . . . music divine, 

O Satyr dense. 
Sounds in our ears . . . Alas ! alas ! — 
Leer not! leer not! but drink the wine 
And drown thy sense, 
O Satyr dense! 



46 LATEST POEMS 

XV 

Cast not away the little that thou hast 
In needless debauchery, 

Which only will make thee sick at last. 
Dependent on charity. 

Take all the little money that thou hast 

To place of security. 
Then, truly, when thou art sick at last. 

There will be a friend for thee. 



XVI 



Whom have I loved? and whom do I love? 

In vain thou questionest me; 
My heart's Beloved a beautiful love! 

Her radiant beauty 
Fills my heart, sad with longings and fears, 

With separation's pain: 
Stranger she is, I know not her name. 

And hope and love in vain! 

When I pass her, my beautiful Love, 

Whispers my heart in despair: 
Though thou art bound, wilt thou not, O Heart, 

Win her, the one so fair? — 
Ah, to be free or sacrifice all 

In moment of madness for her, 
Only to see I tremble, grow pale, 

O Heart, for love of her ! 



LATEST POEMS 47 



XVII 

It evidently was not destined that we 

Should meet, and tell our love to each other, 

For that which I had long dreaded would be 
Has befallen at last — and now for ever 

Our sorrowings, Beloved, will go on ! 

The hope of being united in our love 

In time to come, could make our misery 

Lighter; but there is no such hope — my Love, 
Farewell, farewell for evermore to thee! 

The fairest dream of happiness is gone. 



48 LATEST POEMS 



XVIII 



Morella 



The Queen of Happiness is fair, 

But not so fair as she, 
An earth-born maiden all adore 

For her wondrous beauty. 

Morella, maiden outshining by far 
The maidens all, all, shineth like a star; 
Dark, dark is her face, majestic her gait — 
For her, Morella, the lovers all wait, 
Lift up their eyes to her beauty so rare; 
Proudly she passeth — behold her so fair! 
Lone in her splendor . . . The lovers turn pale, 
And, hopeless and wan, their misfortune bewail. 

Of her, Morella, the poets all sing. 

They speak of One, a gifted being 

Whose name is unknown, who soon will come. 

And win her, Morella . . . a^d he is come! 



LATEST POEMS 49 

Slaves of Morella 

Slaves of Morella, why do ye pine? 

Is it because she favoreth none, 
None of your number? Then will ye pine 

No more if he come, the Unknown One? 
Have ye no other solace than wine? 

Drunken ye reel to your homes each one; 
Make ye yourselves sick no more with wine, 

He is come at last, the Unknown One! 

Slaves of Morella, why do ye pine? 
Have ye no other solace than wine? 
Lift up your eyes to her beauty so rare! 
He is come at last; go, worship elsewhere. 

Slaves of Morella, see who doth pass! 

She — and her lover! . . . Upon his arm 
Proudly she leaneth; muffled his face . . . 

Sabers ye flash in your frenzy — harm, 
Harm is intended to the Unknown; 

Proudly he turneth, unmuffled his face — 
Why do ye fawn? why your valor gone? — 

Prince of the Land and Morella pass ! 

Slaves of Morella, why do ye pine? 
Have ye no other solace than wine? 
Lift up your eyes to her beauty so rare! 
Majesty has her; go, worship elsewhere. 



50 LATEST POEMS 

XIX 
Dream-Love 

In youth we pine for a love, 

An impossible dream-woman, 

Dream of her night and day, 
The most exquisite woman. 

Fairer than all is she, 

Fair beyond expression, 

The woman beautiful 

That comes before our vision. 

She comes in a golden haze. 
And soft dream-melodies 

Pass through our souls as we gaze 
Up at her with rapt eyes. 

Great pleading eyes are hers. 
Sad with her martyrdom: 

Our love is but a dream. 

Our sadness fills the room. 

Trembling we rise to her. 

Longing to clasp her close; 

Her eyes shine with despair. 
For then she always goes. 

She fades before our eyes, 
And we are left in gloom 

To languish with desire 

For her, the woman whom 



LATEST POEMS 51 

We see but in a dream 

And may not call our own, 

She is so beautiful! 

We name her The Unknown. 



Thus dreamers in our dreams 
Behold a fair woman 

Of transcendental beauty 

Surpassing aught human. 

Once we were wont to say 
Our Love must be spirit; 

Such love passes away, 

The heart can not sustain it. 

Such love brings but anguish, 
It leaves the heart opprest; 

She, as ourselves, must live, 

And bring the heart its rest. 



52 LATEST POEMS 

XX 
A Lover*8 Epistle 

Methought, as I without the garden stood, 
I heard thy voice caUing me soft by name; 
I entered then (my Love, thou wast sleeping) 
And knew that thou hadst called me in a dream. 
I let thee sleep, and wandered down the road 
Until I came to where we first had met 
(When thou wast lost — a stranger to this part; 
Thou didst accept mine offer of escort). 
— And since that time, my Love, I have loved thee, 
And day by day have waited patiently. 
But by no word or sign didst thou show me 
That thou my love with thine wouldst e'er requite, 
Until to-day I heard thee unawares 
Pronounce my name in accent tokening 
That I am loved, need have my fears no more. 
That I have won the idol of my heart! — 

I stood before the place where we had met. 

With folded arms, with half -closed eyes, and thus, 

As in a dream, reviewed our strange meeting 

That summer night so beautiful for me ! 

I wandered home, my Love, of thee dreaming. 

Unconscious of the places that I passed, 

I wandered home and still dreaming write this — 

A messenger will bear it soon to thee. 

Await me in thy garden this even 
Amongst the flowers where I found thee sleeping — 
Oh greet me with love shining in thine eyes! 
I come to claim the rapture that is love. 



LATEST POEMS 68 

XXI 

Before me I see the lovers pass: 
The maiden is stately and fair; 
She is leaning on her lover's arm; 
He is handsome and debonair. 

I recline 'neath the shade of a tree 
And fancy I understand 
Two birds sitting on the bough, 
Commenting on the lovers. 

One is young and filled with the joy 
And gladness of life in youth; 
The other is solemn and wise, 
Old, disillusioned with life. 

Says the young one: "Pretty lovers 
So happy in their love! 
Happy lovers, happy life — 
How beautiful is love!" 

"It will be said," says the other 
In a tone philosophical, wise: 
"*Is there not love for youth?* 
And the pessimist will answer: 

" *Yes; and it is witnessed by 
Those that have passed through it, 
Who regard the fond lovers 
With gentle pitying smiles, 



54 LATEST POEMS 

"'Knowing disillusionment is 
In store for both, and the 
Disappointed romantic lover, 
Unless intelligent and 

"'Imbued with a sense of right. 
With a sense of right and wrong. 
Becomes brutal toward his 
No less disappointed love. ' — 

"Rapt in their love, see them go there now, 
Seeing only that in each other's eyes. 
Hearing only each other's cooing, — 
They see not us or the cynic beneath. 

"Kisses, embraces there are many. 
Foolish hearts throb in innocence; 
When they awaken, innocence gone, 
Foolish hearts throb no more! 

"Ere long we shall see the lover pass. 
Care-worn his face, and a scowl thereon; 
Ere long we shall see the maiden pass 
With sad and serious mien. 

" We all are fools when we are young. 
There are many things o'er which we weep 
In youth o'er which we later laugh: 
Life is illusion — illusion, life." 



LATEST POEMS 55 

XXII 

There never was a beautiful maiden 

That could not thrill me with her loveliness, 

Her radiant eyes and features so serene, 

The expression of her countenance divine; 

Yet could not still the morbid thought that she 

Was but descended from a lower kind, 

Her heart perhaps ruled by thoughts and desires 

Belying the sweet beauty of her face. 

There are maidens whose hearts hunger for love. 
For love as fair as any poet dreams; 
Virginity they crave and, lost, shall mourn: 
They are maidens whose minds are beautiful. 
Why should not love remain selfless and pure 
In lover and in maiden all their days? 
Why should the envenomed breath of lust always 
Destroy the fairest flower of human love? 

The fairest love, alas, must always change ! 
That heaven of youth must vanish like a dream! 
And weeping lovers everywhere are seen. 
The heart-breakings of youth are without end. 
And weeping lovers, they are sad to see — 
Forsaken some: many a maiden dreams 
Her lover's at her side protecting her. 
And wakens in the morn to find him gone. 

Ah, let the light of love dwell in the soul 
And purify each heart that hankers for 
Things mean and base — let its radiance shine 
In every habitation of despair! 



56 LATEST POEMS 

Love's gentle influence establish peace 
'Twixt all sad hearts — and let the world be glad! 
Bring back the wandering lover to his love, 
And reunite them — never more to part ! 

XXIII 

A Dream 

Last night a dream of my youth came back: 
I dreamt again I stood alone 
Before an ocean o'er which the sun, 
Sinking slowly, shed it's golden light. 

High wooded-hills were near the shore, 
And at their foot were dwelling-places 
Of man, but no creature was there — 
All lay in silence, wondrous fair. 

And as I stood in reverie, 
Musing on all the things in life. 
There suddenly approached a band 
Of youths and maidens on the shore. 

And all were clad in faery-fashion. 
And all were singing joyously; 
The foremost held a drinking-glass 
Of sparkling wine in her white hands. 

Then all surrounded me, and she 
Spoke to me thus: "O Master, drink! 
Drink of the wine within this glass — 
The wine of life is mine to give! 



LATEST POEMS 57 

"Drink, and remain for ever young! 
Drink, and forget life's bitterness ! 
Drink, and forget the vanity 
Of life and the world to man! 

"The wine of life is mine to give — 
Drink, and remain for ever young ! 
Drink, Master, and rule over us 
And let me be thy queen!" 

I looked into her eyes and was 
Enchanted with their radiance; 
She was so beautiful there was 
A singing in my soul! 

And from her hands I took the glass 
But did not drink, I heard a voice 
Saying: "Newman, it were better 
To sleep than live eternally. 

"All that must bear Eternity 
Do wail and yearn vainly for death; 
Newman! drink not the magic wine, 
Refuse and send them whence they came!" 

She saw I would not drink the wine, 
And feebly moaned: "O Master, drink!" 
"Alas!" I sighed, "canst thou forgive? 
Forgive me!" and poured out the wine. 

Then all cried out as if in pain, 
And wildly fled as if in fear, 



58 LATEST POEMS 

And she — she wept . . . "O Anewman! 
What hast thou done ! " and she fell dead. 

The sun sank, and darkness descended — 
The wind blew, and the ocean rolled — 
The lightning flashed, and thunder sounded — 
A tempest swept o'er land and sea. 

And still I stood in reverie, 
Musing on all the things in life 
And the maiden, until lightning 
Struck my sad heart, and I fell dead. 



XXIV 



All creatures recuperate in sleep. 

Therein sweet rest is found. 
Therein man finds for his sorrows 

Surcease, forgetfulness; 
Yea, were it not for this blessing. 

Wherein strength is renewed, 
All creatures soon would grow maddened, 

Despairing pass away. 



LATEST POEMS 59 



XXV 



To Sleep {In Sickness) 

Sleep ! come to mine eyes 
And let me rest in thee 

So that when I arise 
To-morrow, there will be 
Fresh hope and strength to bear 
The hours of a long day — 
Spirit benign and fair, 
Chase consciousness away. 

Ah, soothe the body's pain. 
My troubled heart now still, 
Enter the wearied brain, 
The whole racked being iSll! 
The blood mounts to the brain, 
And thoughts retain it there — 
Ah, Sleep, sweet Sleep, again 

1 invoke thy presence here ! 



60 LATEST POEMS 



XXVI 

O Theodore Becker, thou friend of my youth ! 

A greeting fair I send to thee, 
And wishes many for thy success 

Where thou art now in Germany. 
In all thy walks by the blue Rhine, 

In jolly students' company, 
Forget not in thy happiness, 

Forget not, dear friend, to think on me! 

O Theodore Becker, thou friend of my youth! 

Sad is my heart, and vain to repine 
O'er the many ills time has brought it — 

May such sadness ne'er lodge in thine ! 
Succeed in thine art, find pleasure therein, — 

It is an art noble, divine, — 
But heed my request : When I am gone, 

Forget not, dear friend, this heart of mine ! 



LATEST POEMS 61 

xxvn 

A Death Song 

I will break my heart no more, 
I will count my misery o'er 

And sink to rest! 
I am sick of life, its pain. 
Know mine has passed in vain. 

And I would rest! 
I think on torturing days. 
Sorrow my guest always. 

And I would rest ! 
Gone now is every fear. 
Gone every hope so dear, 

For I would rest! 
I see in death the door 
That closes evermore 

On hearts opprest! 
Farewell to thee, O Life! 
Farewell thine endless strife, 

I sink to rest! 

XXVIII 

In moments of sickness, 
Is it not mournful how 
The healthiest beings* 
Outlook on life changes? 
Then they are cross, unkind. 
Then they are sad, depressed. 
Then their spirit's broken. 



62 LATEST POEMS 

When cold intense prevails, 
Benumbing the well-clad, 
How suffer then the poor 
Without and in their homes ! 
The proudest, bravest soul 
Struggling in poverty 
Feels then his spirit's broken. 



XXIX 

Heart-failure comes to many a man in sleep 
Who, in a dream, in danger finds himself; 
He starts up in affright at hurt received. 
And conscious of the shock, his heart fails him. 



XXX 

Now in the stillness of the sultry night 
Sweet melodies are wafted through the air — 
A street-musician from a foreign land 
Is pouring out the sadness of his heart. 
Before mine eyes arise visions of him. 
Forlorn and sad, and longing for his home 
He stands now playing to a curious crowd — 
And, penniless, perchance he plays in vain. 

Now, what impression doth he make on them. 
Except wonder? They can not understand 
The sadness of those haunting melodies 
Is the sadness of heart shown in his eyes. 



LATEST POEMS 63 

If I could rise, I would now go to him; 
Together we would drink a cup of wine, 
And he would know a stranger read his heart 
And has feeling for him in his sad plight. 

His music ceases, and he must wander on 
Through dusty streets, a-dreaming of his home — 
Him and others, like him, lost in strange lands, 
May Fortune soon guide them back to their own ! 
Ye Emigrants from lands across the seas. 
Expecting here to find a gold-strewn land, 
Return ! return ! where ye yourselves are known. 
Once ye are here, ye cry in pain, "Ah, woe!'* 



XXXI 

A maker of verse exquisite wast thou, 
Hafiz! and none can equal thee: 
Thou sangest just like a god among men. 
Thy songs in the world all else outshine. 

Thy songs fill our hearts with unrest, longing, 
With longing to be where thou sangest. 
To have drained a goblet of wine with thee 
In Mosalla's pleasaunce near Ruknabad stream. 

The joys and sorrows thou knewest were those 
That lodge in the heart of every man, 
But thou sangest of them in a way divine, 
O Hafiz! and none can equal thee. 



64 LATEST POEMS 

xxxn 
To Pell 

Not long ago we met as friend with friend; 
Our friendship was as noble and nobler 
Than those of men that history relates — 
As youths we drank and bickered like them all. 

We are estranged to meet perchance no more, 
And in our hearts the separation burns : 
In bitter life true friendship is so fair, 
And I shall soon depart for Death's domain. 

I shall be gone, and you how long will live? 
For you the spur of living will have gone : 
When I am gone, sorrow will eat your heart 
And draw you soon thereafter to the grave. 

You wished to cope with me and prove yourself 
Superior — and dashed against a rock : 
Newman the sad and quiet gwasi-dreamer 
Bends not the knee to mortal man or god. 

And in your heart there is respect for me — 
Respect profound, which I, dear boy, return — 
Return ! Newman forgives you all, return ! 
Unchanged you'll find him — sad and lone — 
return ! 



LATEST POEMS 65 



xxxni 

'Tis true! the artist sacrifices all, 

All that he has, to art, bearing for it 

Disappointments many from the cold, cold world. 

And years of misery if his fate is bad. 

O ye Beginners ! whose faith in yourselves 

Has been destroyed by unfriendly acts. 

Arise in your gloom and begin anew! 

Your faith will come back as the years go on. 

Sad soul that hopest for appreciation 

Of thy first work, thou art destined to know 

Nought but disappointment from the cold, cold 

world, 
Few can understand and judge rightly thy work. 

When thou art older and hast become wiser. 
And knowest thyself master in thine art. 
Thou wilt view with pity the work of thy youth, 
But over its crude ness thou shalt not laugh. 
Thou wilt understand that the greatest of work 
Always is done by the wisest of men. 
Made wise and proficient by years of toil — 
Only such can create great works of art. 



LATEST POEMS 

XXXIV 

What can avail a being 

The most high and sovereign mind 

If its fate is but to suffer 

And struggle in bondage here? 

If no star of hope arises 
Of freedom and rest and peace. 
Such a being lives for ever 
Shrouded in an awful gloom. 

And it turns at last to ponder 
On Creation and its cause; 
So it contemplates the universe. 
And then wonders what is God. 

And it blames none for its fate, 
For it sees that all begotten, 
Whether in bondage or not, 
Are beings all alike. 

It sees its own existence 
And its own lot in life 
Were not ordained by Heaven, 
But merely came by chance. 

Because the natural outcome 
Of sexual intercourse 
Betwixt a man and woman 
Is a conscious human being, 

Whose lot is but determined 
By conditions, circumstances 



LATEST POEMS 67 

In which it was begotten 
And must be conscious of. 

So it blames none for its life; 
Its own progenitors, 
It sees, were beings subject, 
Like all, to life's desires. 

It knows ere they existed, 
It was not — that it sprang, 
A seed, from nourishment; 
And such is not a soul. 

Had it never been begotten, 
'Twould have been spared its woe; 
And wise at last, resolves then 
To procreate no more. 

For it would not be the cause 
Of a being's existence. 
Life being misery, 
And non-existence better. 

Good — not the slightest evil — 
Is due to those begotten 
From their progenitors 
For bringing them in life. 

So it ponders on this life; 
And its own misery 
Ever becoming worse. 
It sinks at last in death. 



68 LATEST POEMS 

XXXV 

The poet repines o*er this life 
As he sees the miseries 
Of all living creatures; 
And he sings in solitude 
Of the sadness of this life. 
Of the sadness of his heart. 
The poet is always sad, 
Sadness fills his heart, 
Unutterable longing his, 
And he knows not happiness, 
Enjoys no comfort — he 
Broods but o'er others' pain. 

The poet repines o'er this life. 
He broods o'er others' woes. 
The poet repines o'er this life 
Until he sinks in death. 

XXXVI 

1 

O Life! why are thou so grim 
To all of animate kind.'' 
Sad is the life of each living thing. 
Filled with unrest and many fears. 
And all must live in vain. 

A long-drawn torture art thou! 

Ah me! how all suffer, 

Poor creatures of blood and flesh ! 



LATEST POEMS 69 

Oh, consciousness in them 
Is something sad to see, 
Yet all struggle for life. 

O poor unfortunate beings 
That struggle for your food, 
How grim is consciousness 
To you! 

Ye are living creatures, 
And therefore must suffer — 
A creature in this life 
Is troubled all its days. 

And living, it fears death, 
It shudders o'er the grave, 
Therein it were helpless 
If buried still alive. 

If buried still alive ! 
Ah me ! what a struggle 
And what despair were its 
On waking in the grave. 



And so we know that life 
Itself is grim, is vain. 
For all that enter it 
Depart, and then are nought; 

Yet as we are in it. 
Can suffer and enjoy, 



70 LATEST POEMS 

Let us before we die 
Enjoy all that we can. 

Thus all things prove man should 
Make earth a paradise 
That all who enter life 
Suffer not needlessly. 

All ye that enter life, 
Repine not o'er your fate, 
Repinings but make worse 
All that ye have to bear. 

If ye would live your years, 
Then bear all steadfastly; 
Be steadfast, pure, and just, 
To make your fate lighter. 

Stoop not to brutish joys — 
They plunge the soul in gloom; 
Seek timely, good pleasures. 
And then they will not pall. 

Eat, drink in temperance — 
Fast not if ye can eat. 
Ye need the strength derived 
From food and daily sleep. 

Let inevitables 

Not fill your hearts with fear, 
Darken the present and 
Sweep all its joys away. 



LATEST POEMS 71 

And if ye fear the grave, 
Command those ye can trust 
Your bodies to cremate; 
Die ! thinking your commands 
By them will be enforced. 



XXXVII 

Admire not those that coarsely sing of passion, 

Be not misled by such deluded mortals. 

It is a proof of pure animalism 

In all that can in lechery find delight. 

Some are beings who, when they give expression 
To their feelings inspired in lechery. 
Do fondly think that they do show the way. 
Of all in life, that holds of life the best. 

They know not they do act as would creatures 
Irrational, had such awhile expression; 
Many are fools, and some so much depraved 
They fain would see others in their own woe. 

The best in life, a noble mind perceives. 
Lies not in joys engendering disgust, 
But in the things that leave it sane and pure, 
Superior to irrational creatures. 



72 LATEST POEMS 

\ 
xxxvin 

To the Rake 

Thou hast misspent thy life, 
Therefore thou sufferest now; 
Think of the wanton maids 
Whom thou didst buy, and sink 
Deeper in misery, 
And be ashamed! 

Thou poor deluded thing, 
Thou sufferest indeed ! 
The pleasures of thy life 
Were so evanescent. 
Perhaps wisdom, pity 
Are in thee now. 



XXXIX 

Seek not to hurt by mean acts your neighbor, 
O mortal man, for both of you are like; 
The life in him is the same life in you, 
Your blood and flesh and marrow is the same. 
Look in his eyes, and therein you will see 
That care-worn look the trials of life do bring; 
Time will go on, and death claim both of you- 
What could you gain except remorse in life.? 



LATEST POEMS 73 



XL 



At times there is within me a sublime 
Exalted strain of all-embracing thought, 
And then I seem to be no more feeble, 
But powerful to do all I would wish. 
I see visions and see myself therein 
As mortal man subservient to nought; 
And nought that is is hidden from my view. 
The farthest objects come instantly in reach. 

My soul has power whereby I know all things. 

Can make all objects bend unto my will, 

And am immune to weariness and pain — 

I move in an enchanted, magic air. 

And time is not. Nought changes nor decays. 

I dwell on neither Past nor Future there; 

All is as if one day, but does not end: 

The mind dwells in one sweet, endless Present. 

And all is like some strange heavenly dream 
Of paradise. The mingled colors glow; 
Blood-red predominates, envelops all — 
The very air therein seems to be blood; 
And endless harmonies come and go, 
Making, if possible, all objects seem 
More beautiful to the enraptured sense. 
Which in all this finds long-desired delight. 

Thus do I dream what is impossible. 
When I awaken from my reveries. 
And cold reality sweeps over me. 
Who can imagine what my feelings are? 



74 LATEST POEMS 

XLI 

Being, what to thee would be thy work 

Completed? thy fairest hopes fulfilled 

In a short time? what thou hast done, 

Thou knowest, is the work of youth. 

Too late in thee feelest thou the power 

To write as thou wouldst wish, there is 

Strange languor in thy whole being. 

Ah, let it go ! all things conspired 

Throughout thy life to break thee down; 

What thou hast done, let thou remain — 

It is thy youth. 

All things conspire to break thee down — 

Thy lot in life, the endless pain 

Of mind and body; thy sorrows 

Shall have an end. 

Thou fain wouldst rest but canst not — thou 

Must pass thy days in penury; 

And knowing what thou knowest, thou 

Must laugh o'er thine own misery. 

Relinquish all the hopes still thine — 

They shall prove false; since there is gone 

The fairest hope, the fairest dream 

Of happiness, forget all else. 

Thou knowest that thy weariness. 

Longing for rest will soon draw thee 

And all thy sorrows to the grave — 

There thou shalt rest! 

O thou my Heart, wherefore so sad? 

Thou knowest in Oblivion, Death, 

Life's sadness and felicity 

Are both forgot. 



LATEST POEMS 75 



XLII 



For ever before mine eyes I see 

A vision that pains me so: 
I see a wasted form lying 

On a bed in a strange room. 

It is a woman, and she is weeping — 

Her weeping has no end; 
My Heart, my Heart! how she is weeping, 

Weeping, praying, pining! 

Palsied her hands, she can not lift them 

To brush the tears away, 
Palsied her limbs, she can not move them; 

Her heart so faintly beats ! 

Day after day she lies there weeping, 

But still her sad life stays: 
Her tortured heart to hope is clinging, 

But breaks ! and breaks ! 

Year after year she lies there pining 

For one who will not come. 
Praying and pining so long, and then . . . 

At last her life is done. 

Break, my Heart, break ! but thou art broken, 

Yet wherefore canst not go? 
Curse thou the fate that keeps thee living. 

Caused her and thee such woe. 



76 LATEST POEMS 

All honor to thee, thou stricken One! 

Our fate kept us apart — 
Thou that wast dear to my heart art gone! 

I would we had met again. 



XLIII 

When thou didst die that ne'er knew'st one good 

day 
In all thy life, ah me! my best hope died! 
Too long had poverty been in the way, 
And I from thee was kept by foolish pride. 
I had cherished the hope of bringing thee 
Comfort and ministering to thee in 
Thy great affliction, and thus tenderly 
Show that my love of thee had always been. 

There was a longing in my soul for sleep, 
For sudden death that I might think no more 
On thee and how for long thou hadst to weep, 
Abandoned and afflicted, stricken sore, — 
The night when thou didst die. The heart in me 
That night was broken, and my spirit too — 
I who had thought my own life's misery 
Could not be greater, then a greater knew. 

I wander to a place of revelry 

And sit apart there in a crowded room; 

The revelers make merry much, and I — 

I think on thee nor can forget my gloom. 

"As thou art now thou'st been never before," 

My heart murmurs, and mourns in me and burns — 



LATEST POEMS 77 

"Weary and sick like this never before, 
Each day the blood to me bitterer returns. " 

When will Death's gentle sleep come over me? 
Such sadness I have known never before; 
Come, gentle Death, some night in sleep and free 
A heart that can with gladness beat no more. 
The hopes we cherish and the things we prize, 
The greatest grief must all forgotten be. 
All sense in every heart for ever dies 
When thou, O Death, descend'st; ah, haste to me! 

xuv 
1 

Each day I think of death, but not with fear : 
The contemplation thereof doth bring me peace, 
And soothing sensations of rest and enjoyment 
In the conviction that consciousness shall end. 
My soul is wearied out and can not bear 
Many more of the ceaseless days and nights; 
My whole being yearns for oblivion, 
Each day it sinks in sleep as if in death. 

Ah, let me sleep ! and so forget the pain 
The consciousness of being brings to me, 
Forget the wearying cares, which fill my brain 
With sadness I am one that must such bear. 
To sink in sleep at night, and wake no more! 
Can mind conceive a fairer end than this.'^ 
To sink in sleep at night thinking to wake 
On the morrow — and waken never more ! 



78 LATEST POEMS 

I sing of death because it is so fair, 
The greatest boon to all animate kind, 
And render thanks it is inevitable. 
That it is mine when I can bear no more. 



My mind conceives all manner of beauteous works 

In poesy, but the desire to do is gone, 

My weariness is such I can not longer now 

In penury discommodate myself; 

And even though the desired independence were 

mine, 
The works conceived by me could not be done, 
Steadiest tobacco-smoking since earliest years 
Has taken all the vigor from my brain 
And brings me to a welcome early death. 



I am resigned to life, to my own fate, 
I am disturbed no more by ambition. 
Gone from my heart is the desire for fame, — 
I know that death renders all things nought. 
This present generation shall pass away, 
And other generations shall pass away, — 
Of what avail to me were a great name 
When I am dead and mouldering in the grave? 

The greatest men the world has ever known. 
Perchance perceived the mockery in fame; 
We speak of such and such a one but fail 
To see that we do merely speak of names : 



LATEST POEMS 79 

For they are gone; the work that brought them 

fame 
Is recognized as that which once was done 
By some mortals whose names were so and so, 
And now apply to any of the dead. 

When looking back, in fancy there is seen 

A vision of the makers of great names, 

And comes the thought, regretful and so sad, 

That to their dust their greatness is unknown. 

And many have lived whom I would wish were 

here 
But for a time that I might wander in 
Their company, and so forget awhile 
The weariness my soul in this life feels. 

And they are dust! and to their dust I send 
All greetings fair and thanks in the message 
That in their works I often found pleasure 
Of the highest, which cheered my solitude. 



Aspirants for fame, as ye sleep with the dead. 
Posterity may often speak of your names. 
Honor your work, look back to your own age 
And wonder which amongst its dead ye are. 
Therefore, Aspirants, make sure it comes 
During your life-time — not after it ! 
Enjoy it while ye, your generation exist, 
For all shall vanish — all things — in time. 



80 LATEST POEMS 

Your famous names, when ye are dead, are gone. 

Identify you not — they only tell 

To strangers in life, to posterity 

That mortals so named accomplished the work. 

To strangers in life, to posterity 

Any names at all would tell the same 

As your own names if attached to your work — 

In a name no identity lies. 



My heart this day doth feel so strangely weak, 
And over it the pain has much increased; 
Now, by these signs I know the end is near — 
Soon I shall sleep — and sleep for evermore. 
O ye mortals many that went before ! 
In your last hours, I know, ye lost the hope 
That ye throughout your busy lives retained : 
The hope of a promised life hereafter. 

XLV 
Song 

I will break my heart no more, 

Sad World, over thy state, 
I will break my heart no more. 

Sad World, o*er my own fate; 
I will send all feeling hence, 

Since it availeth nought — 
To sleep, to rest, go hence, 

O Heart with misery fraught ! 

May the ages come and go, 

May the oceans roll and roll, 



LATEST POEMS 81 

May the winds blow and blow, 

And man attain life's goal, — 
Thou shalt know of these no more 

When thy life's blood is gone, 
Thou shalt break then never more, 

O Heart so proud and lone ! 



XLVI 
Heaven 

Look not for golden wonders there to see — 

Such wonders ye have full enough on earth; 

A paradise with nought earthly therein, 

Is Heaven the Kingdom of Content. 

But still I wonder how its work is done 

If all therein are spirits, beings sans 

Their bodies, hence, their brains; how they 

control 
Great worlds if they are beings of mere air. 

'Tis said that they communicate with those 
They knew on earth — beloved friends and kin; 
I believe it not for all man's evidence: 
They can not speak — their tongues and lips are 

gone. 
They exist not, I believe. The body gone. 
Then life is done — the body was the life; 
Reposing in the grave, it lives no more: 
It was exhausted, and therefore had to die. 



LATEST POEMS 



SLvn 



There is no spirit, no immortal soul, 

For consciousness can be but in substance 

Corporeal, in an organism — in such 

Xutriment is essential to life. 

Too late has this truth dawned ujx)n my mind. 

There is no self-existent being in 

The realm of space; I now believe that all 

The worlds therein exist and came by chance. 

WhethCT a globe's inhabited or not 
Can make no di5erence in space, in time; 
And none beholds it, none created it. 
Unconscious space envelops all. 

Held in its orbit by the sun, the earth 

For centuries has been man's dwelling-place; 

But when the sun dies out and warmth is gone, 

Man and all creatures shall perish in cold. 

Ere that should come to pass, p)erhaps the earth 

WUl be destroyed, consumed by its own fire, 

Or spUt asunder if, in its career. 

Celestial bodies swift dash into it. 

Something shall happen, space is not secure — 

It is an ocean in which the planets swim; 

And whether he beheve or not in God, 

Man dies, and he should be grateful therefor. 

T^ierrfore we know that nothing is ordained 
That happens in the world, and man is free 
To make of earth a paradise or hell. 
Or let the race of man die out instead. 



LATEST POEMS 8S 

Ah, let the race of man die out, for death 

By far is better than the fairest life; 

And man's endeavors, all his works are vain — 

All is in vain! the earth shall be destroyed. 

Under the safe protection of kind death 

Are all creatures — ah, render thanks therefor, 

All ye Living in many ways opprest; 

Hear one who speaks to you and speaks of death. 

XLVIII 

Thy true story, O thou my Life, none knows — 
How thou hast loved, O thou my Heart, none 

knows, 
To all but to thyself thou art unknown; 
Therefore let none judge thee when thou art gone. 
Review thy life, O Heart, and thou must mourn. 
And say "Farewell for evermore, sweet Hope!" 
With woe 'twas always dark — and now forlorn. 
So wearied thou, thy struggles are in vain. 

Ah my Beloved, thou livest! come to me! 
For thou art one in whom I could find rest; 
Thou spurnest, with a loathing true in thee, 
What I have loathed long and still must dread. 
Ah my Beloved, I'm pining! come to me! 
And bitterness is all my heart has known; 
But never more, my Love, oh never more 
Shall aught prevail on my sad heart again! 

Despair is in my soul when I arise. 

The blight Misfortune endeth not — she comes. 



84 LATEST POEMS 

And adds unto my sufferings each day; 

Quelling the one remaining hope, she cries: 

" When summer comes again and thou goest forth 

With longing eyes expecting her to see, 

In vain thou'lt look and wait every-where, 

She will not pass again — thy Love is dead!" 

Ah, come! and give the lie to all my fears — 
Come, and Misfortune withering shall flee — 
Come, and sweet Fortune shall enter instead 
And guard the ways of life for thee and me! 
There is a longing in my soul for thee — 
Appear! before the life in me expires! 
The summer days I would wander with thee, 
Care-free and glad, in many a pleasant scene. 

For all thy murmurings, thou knowest. Heart, 
Thou wouldst not drag her into thine own fate, 
And had not Fate decreed it otherwise. 
There would be none to mourn when thou diest. 
Thou standest on thy pinnacle of woe 
And thinkest on the long-drawn bitter years: 
Can Hope return again? thou say est: No! 
But say no more ! the silent are the brave. 

xux 

There never was a singer like to thee, 
O Hafiz, sweetest singer of all time! 
Though earth roll on through all futurity, 
And countless singers rise to the sublime. 
No singer shall arise to equal thee: 



LATEST POEMS 85 

Thou sangest in a way the most divine; 
Therefore the best shall imitate but thee — 
Thus, Hafiz, in the world thy songs do shine. 

Fain would I, O my Hafiz, fain believe 

That an impossible new life shall dawn — 

Unbroken rest — ere death's eternity; 

For were there such, sweet singer, I'd meet thee 

And those that I have loved that now are gone. 



And I shall rest me in the grave at last, 

That which is I crumble slowly away 

Into a dust, which in the earth locked fast 

Will be as nought, and nought remain for aye. 

Ah me! the impotence of all living! 

By consciousness thereof I am opprest, 

And filled with shame, so that when I'm dying, 

I'll gladly cry " Farewell, O World ! Come, Rest!" 

Farewell then. Life that lead'st us in a maze 
Wherein we wander piteously forlorn; 
Our eyes, sad and pleading, to heaven we raise, 
Hoping in vain for succor, as, down borne. 
With sobbing hearts we sink in darksome ways. 



86 LATEST POEMS 



LI 



Farewell, O World, farewell! 

O bitter World, farewell! 

My heart in bitterness 

Bids thee, O World, "Farewell." 

In thee no peace there is, 
In thee no rest there is — 
Nought but sorrow and pain 
In thee, O World, there is. 

Farewell, O World, farewell! 
O bitter World, farewell! 
End soon! that none may bear 
Thy pain — O World, farewell! 



EARLIEST POEMS 



EARLIEST POEMS 89 

I 

Romance of a Dreamer 

1 

Most beautiful Maiden, it is of thee 
That the prince of dreamers — to the world 

unknown — 
For many long years fondly has dreamed, 
Most beautiful Maiden, of thee! 

One who had thought his soul's love ne'er to find , 
His declaration at last can make; 
And since thou wast destined for him, Maiden, 
We shall meet in a way already designed. 

When we shall meet, there will come into being 
The most beautiful love of all time — 
And near is that day, O my Beloved! 
Which shall end for us our sorrowing. 



Ah, come to the tryst that's been named, 

Ah, trust the stranger's heart, 

Oh, for evermore be mine ! 

Come to the tryst that's been named! 

Ah, trust the stranger's heart, 

An isolated being sad. 

Whose love for thee is the best, 

Highest in existence . . . Come! 



90 EARLIEST POEMS 



In the sound of the murmuring waters 
We met and we saw each other smile. 
We met and we wandered through the night 
By the shore of the moonht sea. 

To the enchantment of that first meeting 
The soul shall for ever cling; 
Ne'er let aught cause it to be broken, 
my Beloved ! or I shall die ! 



Thou camest like a vision in the gloom 
That once enshrouded all my being — thou 
Didst pass like music through my troubled soul 
And broughtest me hope again, my Love, for now 

Thou art the desire for life unto my soul, 
To thee my soul sings countless melodies 
And mourns no more the bitter days gone by — 
A happiness so great shines in thine eyes. 



I love thee, I love thee, mine Idol! 
Thou stillest the craving of my heart, 
Thou fillest my being with sheer delight. 
So beautiful thou art! 

To wander with thee by the sea-shore, 
My Beloved, and look in thine eyes. 
Such longing awakens in my glad heart 
Each morn as I arise. 



EARLIEST POEMS 91 



So like the drooping willow, 
My beauteous Love, art thou; 
And like the drooping willow, 
Bend o'er me now! 

Thy cloud-like hair o'ershadow 
Thine eyes and thy sweet brow; 
Still like the drooping willow. 
Bend o'er me now! 



From day to day we meet as comrades here, 
Two different beings from the ones we seem; 
The wonder of our love so sweet and pure 
Makes all hereabout seem like some lovely dream. 

In our companionship there is a joy 
That death alone, my Love, can take away — 
Ah, lean on me! the thoughts of death annoy; 
Let us forget them this bright summer's day. 



The bitter days and bitter nights are gone, 

And thou liest hushed once more in dreaming sleep; 

I open wide the chambers of my heart, 

And o'er its miseries past I still must weep. 

Impressed indelibly upon my mind 

Are they, those cold and long-drawn bitter years — 

I shudder! for within my soul I feel 

A sadness strange laden with many fears. 



92 EARLIEST POEMS 

I love thee, and each moment of the day, 
Whatever I do, my thoughts are but of thee; 
Until all things in death shall be forgot. 
It must be so, mine only Love, with me. 
In moments when thy gentle eyes look sad, 
In moments when thou feelest sickness* pain. 
Oh, then the world to me seems like a waste 
Until the glad light enters them again. 

The cool refreshing breezes of the night 
Blowing upon my burning brow, awake! 
Awaken me from out sad reverie — 
Ah, let my heart forget its old-time ache! 
Why am I thus afflicted with grim fears? 
Oh, why this night is saddened so my heart .^^ — 
Sleep on, my Love, if thou art now sleeping. 
And if awake, come strain me to thy heart! 



I awoke with forebodings of ill. 
And all hopes in my soul had died; 
Like a grave seemed the world to me. 
And love a thorn in my side 
As I wandered and waited for thee 
Where I knew thou always didst pass 
On thy way in thy morning's walk, 
But thou camest no more, alas ! 

10 

Now thou art dead, my Beloved, 
Now thou art dead, my Beloved, 

Nor hearest nor seest me! 



EARLIEST POEMS 93 

Where art thou now, my Belovid? 
Where art thou now, my Beloved? 

Under the treacherous sea! 
Sad is my heart, my Beloved, 
Sad is my heart, my Beloved, 

Soon I shall follow thee! 

11 

Be loyal to the love of thy dreams, O Dreamer, 

After thou hast found her and before! 

The fairest happiness only is known 

To those that can love without base desires. 

Let the wonder of her countenance 
Expel from thy soul the morbid thought 
That thine idol is but a thing of flesh 
Not worth the worship of thy love. 

Ah, wander a god though by fate mere man! 

Thine is the power to keep inviolate 

The purity of a love so fair, 

Which, if once destroyed, thou shalt mourn vainly. 

12 

Love is inspired in the dreamer's heart 
By the vision of a face and form 
That enters the soul and lodges there, 
Fills it wholly with a wondrous song. 

Love is communion between two souls, 
A companionship whose influence 
Inspires a feeling of rest and joy. 
Of gladness that heart has met its heart. 



94 EARLIEST POEMS 



II 



The Last Serenade 

The whispering breezes of the night 
Greet me, Beloved, in thy garden now, 
The fountains mumur their welcome too, 
The flow'rets awake, and only thou 
No greeting sendest — oh, the night send thee 
Love in a dream that thou mayest wake 
And weep with longing — then come to me, 
My Love, my Love, then come to me! 

The agony of the many nights, 
O my Beloved! end thou at last! 
End thou this night with thy coming — 
Hear me, thy lover, who loves thee best! 
Who loves thee so, is dying of thee — 
Ah, listen to my words and come! 
O mine only Love, now come to me! 
My Love, my Love, now come to me! 

And the wonder of thy countenance. 
And the radiance of thine eyes. 
And the music of thy beloved voice 
Be mine at last! my Love, arise! 
Arise in the night and come to me! 
Thou art awake and hearest me plead, 
And canst not know how I pine for thee. 
My Love, my Love, how I pine for thee! 



EARLIEST POEMS 95 

But, alas ! no greeting cometh to me. 
And all is still and dark once more 
Within thy chamber — in thy garden 
Thou wilt see me — oh, never more! 
The night is dying — farewell to thee! 
My heart is breaking, for hope hath fled; 
Now art thou weeping? then weep for me. 
My Love, my Love, then weep for me! 



Ill 
Song 

Should thine celestial eyes ne'er shine 

For me, still thou wouldst hold 
My love for thee, which is divine 

And never can grow cold. 
More dear to me art thou than all 

In all the world to me — 
This life on earth, honor, and all 

Hopes of eternity. 

Mayhap thy heart will say to thee: 

A man must honor hold 
E'en more precious than his lady. 

And thus his life's course mould. 
To which my heart will answer thine 

With true solemnity: 
A selfless love, my Love, is mine. 

And all were safe with thee. 



96 EARLIEST POEMS 

IV 

Ah, that I might look into thine own pure eyes 
And there behold a great eternal love! 
Which would give me such happiness on earth 
As none can hope to find in heaven above. 

Mine eyes would tell thee of mine own great love, 
Of love as fair as all the angels' are; 
To me thou art as one above this world, 
Like the brightest and most heavenly star. 

V 

Romantic Love 

And he came like a prince in a dream 
As I mused by the lonely shore 
Of the beautiful moonlit sea; 
I knew all my longings were o'er, 
And that love had at last found me, 
For he came like a prince in a dream. 

And it seemed like some strange dream to me: 

In breaking waves' sad melody 

His step and form made harmony; 

Slowly he stept, slowly drew nigh, 

When, lo! some unknown power flew by — 

A phantom — and made him go from me. 

But the whispering breezes with low sighs 

Tenderly flew about mine eyes. 

Whispering softly: "Fear thou not 

This phantom strange, maiden — it flies ! 

To him we'll fly, and whisper what 

We whispered long ago;" and with low sighs 



EARLIEST POEMS 97 

Those whispering breezes flew to him 
And made him turn and come to me: 
Swiftly he stept, swiftly drew nigh; 
Trembling I heard his words to me — 
Rapture was shining in his eye 
And drew me into the arms of him! 

And he called me his beautiful queen, 
The queen of his heart and his dreams, 
Whom he had sought o'er many lands. 
O'er many seas and unknown streams — 
E'en through the burning desert sands 
He had sought for his beautiful queen. 

And he was the sweet prince of my dreams — 

So gentle, so handsome he was! 

Debonair as the bravest are — 

So gentle, so handsome he was! 

All his words like sweet music were, 

For he was the sweet prince of my dreams! 

And it seemed like some strange dream to me 

As we stood on the lonely shore 

Of the beautiful moonlit sea; 

We knew all our longings were o'er 

As our hearts beat in ecstasy. 

Though it seemed like some strange dream to me. 

And they came all too soon seeking me — 
They had thought I was lost, was gone; 
They had sought for me every-where. 
And they found us when it was dawn; 

7 



98 EARLIEST POEMS 

And they gave him a welcome fair, 
But they came all too soon seeking me. 

Thus he came, the sweet prince of my dreams ! 

As I mused by the lonely shore 

Of the beautiful moonlit sea; 

I knew all my longings were o'er, 

And that love had at last found me. 

For he came, the sweet prince of my dreams ! 

VI 

What though the hours of joy have flown away? 
O lonely Heart, they have not been in vain! 
What though the moments come on wings of pain? 
Still shine the stars in night, the sun in day! 
Bend not thy will in mad wine's senseless sway, — 
Seek not the land of darkness and of pain, — 
Melancholy, though black, can only reign 
While demons of the night shut out the day. 
Arise thou, then, crushed Heart, arise! 
Let memories plead — oh kiss the gleaming eyes 
Of Hope — lo, hear! she singeth in the dawn 
Of a new morn such strange sweet melodies: 
The joys of that new life thou wilt more prize 
For having known these pains — and joys now gone. 

VII 

One who in sickness in the summer days 
Must labor long and hard in the city. 
Or is confined in squalid stuffy rooms. 
Never feeling the coolness of a breeze: 



EARLIEST POEMS 99 , 

In such a one there always is longing, ; 

Intense longing to be in the country, 

In green meadows amongst the grass and flowers, 

And wander by the streams where breezes blow. j 

Not once in one whole summer have I been | 

Outside the city sweltering in heat, ' 

But trudging wearily from home to work, 

And back again to home each wretched day. 

But come again, O Summer! and I'll seek. 

With a companion, meadows and country lanes; | 

Then will I rest me in the shade of trees, 

And wander by the streams where breezes blow. , 



VIII 
Song of a Sprite 

I gambol through the meadows fair. 

Through pathless woods, near murmuring streams, 

Unseen of any one; 
I wander o'er great cities on 
The breezes, who know me, and they 

Wander o'er all the world. 

But when the night-time comes! 
Then phantoms seek to fright my soul 
Out of its newborn liberty 

And send it down to Hell, 
Hell whence it rose one bitter morn 

While all the demons slept. 



100 EARLIEST POEMS 

IX 

To Hafiz I will drink this cup of wine, 

Red wine! the while beauteous maidens sing 

And the soothing strain of music through the soul 

Doth pass, and gentle memories bring. 

This moment the soul doth glow with warmth 

divine 
And sendeth to thee, Hafiz, friendly greeting 
Across the silent years since thou didst sing. 
And seek for solace in sweet love and wine. 



A noble-minded man is one that bears 

With fortitude the trials of his life. 

With fortitude adversities' grim cares. 

For he perceives that they must needs be borne. 

In all his actions he is brave and calm, 

Knowing that fear would but dishonor him, 

Repinings but make ills harder to bear. 

And waste the strength a harassed spirit needs. 

He is an independent-minded man, 
No meek and docile pious hypocrite, 
And will not brook the insolence of wrongs. 
Nor feel pleasure in his worst foe's distress. 
In all his actions he is just and kind, 
Ridicules not those poor unfortunates 
That every-where each day are to be found 
In all the habitations of mankind. 

If he is fortunate, he will not flaunt 
His opulence before a poor man's eyes, 



EARLIEST POEMS 101 

But seek rather to render aid to him 
In a manner that will not hurt his pride; 
He can not bear that wistful look therein, 
That wistful look the needy always show 
On beholding in others signs of wealth, 
Independence and comfort — all they lack. 

He goes through life a brave and gentle man. 
Unselfish, undeluded, patiently; 
His noble soul always prompts what is best 
And would arraign itself for ill deeds done. 
He goes through life a brave and gentle man, 
And if his fate has been too harsh, will not, 
As he expires, reproach the world therefor, 
But sadly think it could have been more kind. 

XI 

O self-deluded Being 
That thinkest thyself more 
Than God, the creator 
That mortal men conceive! 
Proud, indomitable 
In thy strength seemest thou, 
But subject still art thou 
To hunger, thirst, and pain. 
Therefore a little time 
Will prove thine impotence — 
When the body decays 
And thou must suffer pain. 
A little more time then. 
And thou wilt gladly sink 
In endless sleep — in death. 
And be no more. 



102 EARLIEST POEMS 

XII 
Satan Dying 

Thy deed is done, Jehovah! 

So be it now, thou hast conquered; 

My soul is wounded unto death — 

Lo, death cometh over my soul! 

Impotent rage and sadness move 

My being proud and lone; 

Though I am helpless 'gainst thy power, 

I sink to rest without recall. 

And thou, Jehovah Eternal ! 

Though thou art mighty, yet do I mourn 

For thee who must for ever be, 

And know not rest! 

Thy soul is strung for evermore 

To despairing chords! — I die! 



XIII 

Shiver! thou poor and wretched fool, 

Thou! that hast dared to be 

Perfidious to thy master in 

Days of distress, and he loved thee — 

Great is thy sin! 

False-hearted churl, be gone! 

Avaunt! while yet his heart 

A vestige doth retain 

Of compassion for thee. 



EARLIEST POEMS lOS 

Thou caused him sadness — thou! 

By thine ingratitude, 

By thine hypocrisy 

And acts of low meanness: 

Thou moral idiot, 

Shiver! tremble! be gone! 



XIV 

Good counsel remains unheeded by the young, 
For their minds are young, and therefore can not 
Fully understand thy counsels, O Sire! 
They must go through all and of themselves grow 

wise. 
Apply not the rod in thine anger, O Sire! 
It is a practice that wisdom forbids — 
O Progenitor! alienate not them. 
Prepare them for life in a kindlier way. 



XV 

The heart that feels opprest o'er others' woes 
Need have no doubt of its own purity; 
Though man may judge it harshly and condemn, 
It need not fear, man's judgment is not divine. 
All ye that are dishonored in men's eyes — 
All ye that struggle forlorn in a land 
Where wealth abounds— all ye by enemies 
Opprest — all ye troubled in any way, — 



104 EARLIEST POEMS 

Fear nought! but steadfastly defy your foes, 
And as ye taste each draught of bitterness. 
Ah, let this thought bring comfort to your souls : 
The centuries will roll on, and in death 
It matters nought how life went on the earth. 



XVI 

To Music 

Thou harmony of wondrous sound. Music! 
To thee alone the wearied soul responds 
After long years of life's grim misery. 
Which, ending not, causes it to despair. 
Despairing souls in thee have found solace 
For all the woes and evils that they bore- 



Come thou, Music, to my own troubled soul 

When I seek thee! 

And well I know that thou hast power to wake 

And lift the soul from out its settled gloom 

Unto a height of thought and emotion 

Where it awhile felicity may know; 

For thus inspired, it glows with warmth divine 

And is upborne on an immortal strength 

Wherein it feels subservient no more 

To aught in life that troubled it before: 

Immune to time, to its mortality. 

It seems to soar into the waiting skies 

And wander in a wonder-realm divine — 

Majestic, free, a self-existent life. 



EARLIEST POEMS 105 

Thou bringest visions of love fulfilled therein, 
The idol of its fancy found at last, 
A love divine with countenance so bright 
Filling the soul with rapturous delight. 

And when too soon thy sounds are heard no more, 
I wander in the night alone dreaming — 
Dreaming until thou cold and bitter morn 
Wakest and bringest me back to earth again. 

Yea, Music, thou art loved by all mankind — 
Under thine influence the multitudes 
Each day are moved to laughter or to tears 
O'er recollections that thou wakest in them. 
Feelings of joy, of sadness and gladness 
Inspirest thou wherever thou art heard; 
Thou soothest the sick, the wearied and forlorn, 
Fillest their souls with resignation's calm. 

Thou art the art, O Music, that is known 
In every world throughout the universe; 
And of all the arts unto mankind given. 
Thou art and shalt for ever be the best! 



XVII 

And thou, thou sweet-toned violin! 
How often hast thou cheered my solitude. 
Bringing me rest, and inspiration too — 
A solacer art thou! 



106 EARLIEST POEMS 

In agony of soul have I sought thee, 

And made thee throb and quiver 'gainst my 

breast 
Until thy trembling strings could bear no 

more 
The raging storm of sound, and broke. 

A solacer art thou ! 

Thou bringest solace and consolation to 

Many a heart forlorn and sad — 

A solacer art thou ! 

XVIII 

It was a darling child 
With golden hair and gentle eyes; 
So like a flower, which soon dies, 
The little maiden was. 

Beloved Child, thy mother so did weep 
As thou layest cold in death's strange sleep, 
Thy mother so did weep 
O'er thee, beloved Child. 

O darling Child! the sight of thee 

Can bring her joy — come thou often 

To her vision, I pray thee! 

Her care-worn heart has been broken. 

Each day she mourns and pines for thee — 

Beloved Child, she weeps for thee; 

Visions of thee her grief soften. 

Thou darling Child! 



EARLIEST POEMS 107 

I saw the light die in thine eyes, 

And I was sad: 

Lifeless thou layest, ne'er to rise, 

And make us glad. 

Ah, hadst thou lived, thou wouldst have been 

Beloved always, 

A solace to thy mother in 

Sorrowful days — 

My comrade, little Sister mine, 

Wouldst thou have been; 

But winter's chill entered thy heart. 

And gone for evermore thou art 

Out of life's misery: 

So in death's sleep, for ever sleep; 

And one there is shall think on thee 

Until in death also shall sleep 

With thee, thou darling Child ! 



XIX 



And thou didst languish for long years, 
Broken in body, suffering pain, 
In thine abode 'mid strange bare walls. 
And thou didst pine and pine for me. 

Great was thy sorrow! in such a state 
Thou wast abandoned — thou wast alone! 
The thought brake thy heart a thousand times. 
And yet thou didst live — to wait for me. 



108 EARLIEST POEMS 

One day they said that thou wast dying. 
I hastened to thee and found thee dying; 
And our separation was at an end, 
But, alas, stricken Soul, thou knewest it not! 

For thy mind had been shattered in the morn. 
And thine eyes all broken, and thus thou lay'st, 
Seeing and hearing and feeling nought; 
Vain were the words I addressed to thee. 

I waited and waited in hope that thou 
A moment wouldst revive, know I was there — 
Each moment, alas ! thy breathing became 
Weaker ... In the night thou didst pass 
away. 

Shall I forget how thou didst look dying? — 
A wasted corse wast thou ere breath was gone!- 
Shall I forget the anguish that I feel 
Over thy sufferings.'^ Ah, yes — in death! 

What care I for the joys and pains of life! 

The world to me is like a pit of woe; 

Yet were my fate a thousand times still 

worse, 
I would now bear it if thou wert here. 

Thine was the saddest of mortal fate: 
Thou that didst rear me and toil for all, 
Thou hadst to suffer in bitterest grief 
After thy life of bitter toil. 



EARLIEST POEMS 109 

Grim is my fate and grim is my sorrow — 
Thou that art dead didst not know my heart! 
Repinings are vain, I can only think 
That poverty was the cause of all. 



When the desire to live is gone, 

And the soul is opprest with gloom, \ 

Then, O Soul, why lingerest thou? ^ 

Why not end such martyrdom? j 

j 

Thou art sick and longest to die, ( 

To sink to an endless rest • 

Where thou canst hear no more a cry ] 
From earth's creatures with woes opprest. 

O thou most sad and lonely Soul! I 

Thou mournest and mournest alone 1 

O'er all Creation's miseries, I 

But who doth mourn over thine own? i 

Once thou didst say time heals all woes, 

Brings all afflicted rest, 

But yet time hath not healed thine own — \ 

Only in death canst thou find rest. \ 



no EARLIEST POEMS 

Thus sang my troubled soul 

On a time when yet so young; 

Now I repine no more 

O'er my own fate; 

For I see such fate will end 

At last in welcome death, 

And the thought can give me strength 

To bear all things calmly. 

I look back on my life and see 
Long years of misery, 
Then years of penury, 
And wonder that I am here. 
The hopes, the dreams of youth 
Made such fate bearable, 
Yet I would not wish them back — 
I am glad that youth is gone. 

I desire and wait for death, 
A dreamless, endless sleep; 
All wisdom teaches that 
Only therein is rest. 



XXI 

Grim is thy lot indeed. 
Thou independent-minded man. 
Thou that must toil, and bear 
Indignities that burn thy soul 
In drudgery that tortures thee, 



EARLIEST POEMS 111 

Wasting thy strength in useless things, 
Leaving thee care-worn and forlorn, 
A sad and piteous sight ! 

Such torture doth afflict thy soul 
From day to day till thou despair'st, 
And madness wakens oft in thee. 
Which only pride can quell. 
Sad — is it not? — that thy body, 
Of all thy foes, becomes the worst. 
Making greater thine agony — 
A traitor to the soul! 
Yet struggle 'gainst thy fate 
While strength in thee remains ! 
Be ever so, let nothing daunt 
Thy spirit proud and lone! 

What canst, what wouldst thou do 

To soothe thine agony? 

To rail 'gainst man, attack his faults. 

His governments, injustices. 

His frailties, his cruelties, — 

Of what avail were this? 

Be stern, be inexorable 

Where tyrants are concerned, 

Not o'er the many frailties 

Of suffering mankind. 



112 EARLIEST POEMS 

Be thou above malice, 

Be just, e'en merciful 

If time should e'er bring thee 

Power o'er thine enemies. 

Rise thou in thought o'er men. 

Act thou as the noblest 

Of all beings in life 

Would act in thine own place; 

And sink in death as sleep, 

Undaunted to the end. 

Brave, gentle, just, and sad. 

Thou independent-minded man. 



XXII 



The days go by, and all thy time is spent 

In bitter unremunerative toil. 

Quelling thy hope of a small independence, 

Which could enable thee to do thy work. 

And thus bring peace unto thy sorrowing soul, 

Whose strength slowly declines ; soon must expire 

Its feeble light unless hope is renewed 

And strength again enters the worn-out frame. 

Thus is it always in this twisted world: 
Beings that could an independence prize, 
Fortune ne'er fails to bring much misery, 
Decrees all such long years of penury 
Until they sink disconsolate in death. 



EARLIEST POEMS 118 

XXIII 

When thou art sick and suffering much, yea, 

bleeding, 
And without hope of being well again 
To carry on thy work, what then, O Being, 
What canst thou do but suffer to the end! 
In vain will come to thee old inspirations 
Filling the soul with hopes and thoughts sublime. 
Thou shalt not heed them more when thou*rt 

feeble. 
But sink instead into life's last despair. 

Think then of the many days thou hast lived. 
Struggling through them in constant agony, 
And reckon well how many there are from death. 
And settle thine account with the grim world. 
Ah, crush in thee that vain deluding hope 
As thou liest on thy bed, so frail, forlorn! 
Think not, O Heart, a miracle shall happen, 
Changing all things for thee as thou wouldst wish. 

Let this thought soothe thine agony, O Dreamer: 
That even hopes fulfilled avail one nought 
When once the flesh is rotting in the grave. 
And the mind but a mere thing of the past; 
For thou shalt sleep, and waken never more! 
Life will go on, and none remember thee, 
For all shall sleep, and waken never more, 
And none shall be remembered in the world! 



114 EARLIEST POEMS 

XXIV 
Misanthropes, Pessimists, Etc, 

Beings there are that Uve in endless gloom, 
In gloom so deep they fling all hopes aside 
And live opprest with man, with life, and all 
That is in life; and so they live alone. 
For they are beings all-proud that bow to none 
And claim the right of freedom, since they were 
Called into life; their souls being fearless. 
Nought can change them — and they are much 
too wise. 

They desire not the love of man or woman 
(However bright and beautiful she be); 
They have no faith in them, for ever feel 
That selfishness and hypocrisy lurks in all. 
Oh, they are beings too sad and wise for life — 
Like bitter gall its essence is to them; 
They are opprest with ennui, and disgust for 
The flesh despised, with its daily functions. 

They trust not in moments of exaltation — 

Their faith is gone. They say hunger and cold. 

Sickness, all wretchedness to all beings 

Do come and go only to come again. 

And some there are that will not wait for death, 

But seek it to escape their sufferings. 

And some there are that will wait until death 

Come late or soon. 



EARLIEST POEMS 115 

Whate'er their fate, none thinks that life is good 
In any state, since consciousness in all 
Beings perforce makes them subservient 
To the weariness that time infallibly brings. 
Hence they believe Creation is in vain — 
Because no one can live contented long; 
That the Creator must in time succumb. 
And all the worlds in space then pass away. 

XXV 

Soliloquy of a Suicide 

In that hour when thou wakenest, O Soul, 
To the emptiness and mockery of thy life, 
And thou art burdened overmuch with woes, 
Resign thyself to hopelessness — and go! 

Fear not a punishment men prophesy 
For those that by their own acts hasten death — 
Men know not that of this they speak but lies; — 
Heed thou the wisdom thine own sorrows bring. 

Whether thou live till thou art old and gray. 
Worn-out, enfeebled, with desires fulfilled or not. 
Or sinkest to rest this moment, will be the same. 
Once thou art gone, as if thou hadst ne'er been 
born. 

Beings grown wise desire no more of life; 
Premature death would spare them many days 
Of ennui, pain, degrading, wearying cares — 
So they reason, knowing the end's the same. 



116 EARLIEST POEMS 

If all thine eflForts do avail thee nought, 
If hostile acts make worse thine hopelessness, 
The Creator demands not thou shouldst live, 
But seek thy rest, sad Soul — sad Light, expire! 

XXVI 
Tale of a Traveler 

*Twas in my early wanderings, one day in early 

June, 
The sun was slowly sinking, and the night would 

come soon. 
That I burst upon a valley — oh, it seemed like 

Paradise ! 
My heart beat with rapture — any heart would 

have likewise. 

Thus I gazed upon that valley, when suddenly I 

heard 
The most enchanting music, — the song of a bird, — 
Which held me there enraptured in the enchanted 

air, 
Nor ceased to hold me spell-bound before that 

valley fair 

Until darkness descended, hid from my eager 
view 

That valley fair and shining, when ceased the 
bird's song, too; 

In vain I wandered all night the hills and moun- 
tains o'er, 

When dawn at last approached, friends, I found 
that vale no more. 



EARLIEST POEMS 117 

xxvn 
A Fragment 

O thou silent Night, behold the return 

From the quest, which, thou knowest, was all in 

vain! 
Thou hast seen me alone, yea, all alone, 
O sad Spirit, wandering over the earth. 



At the foot of the mountains, the shore of the sea, 
In the gardens of roses have I greeted thee, 
On far-stretching plains and unfriendly streams 
That led to the desert of many sad dreams. 

Thou hast seen me arise from those many sad 

dreams 
In the desert all-shining with wonderful beams, 
By phantoms attacked, and vanquish them all. 
Yet no sign didst thou send to my tortured soul. 



Midst the myriad graves thou hast seen me stand, 
A being more sad o'er the wearying thought 
That she whom I sought might once have lived, 
And found there a home for her beautiful frame. 



118 EARLIEST POEMS 



XXVIII 

When two mighty warriors clash 

In combat, will the victor 

Understand his fallen foe's pain, 

Or in his triumph gloat? 

The agony of one 

All-proud that falls in fight, 

Ne'er to retrieve defeat, 

The agony of him 

Is great — his bitterness 

Extinguishes almost 

The life in him. 

Ah, let all victors be 

Noble in victory ! 

The time may come when they 

Themselves shall fall, and know 

The pain of defeat. 



XXIX 

wandering Spirit of the Night! 

Enfold us in thy mantle soon. 
For we come wounded from the fight- 

And crave of thee a boon: 
Mislead the foes, who follow fast 

With merciless intents. 
So, baffled, they shall sleep at last 

Within their guarded tents. 



EARLIEST POEMS H9 

Then, wandering Spirit of the Night, 

Send forth thy breezes o'er the plain 
To soothe with kisses sweet and Hght 

This strange o'erpowering pain. 
Until we reach the waters where 

Our wearied steeds may drink 
And we ... O Night, still guard us there 

When we in slumber sink ! 

Fain would we stand and fight the foe, 

And sink upon the battle-plain, 
The remnant of a strength now low. 

Never to rise again; 
But they have sworn to capture him 

We bear, our chieftain-lord. 
And in their triumph mock at him 

And hack him with a sword. 

Thy shadows fall, thy breezes blow, 

And water shines in the distance. 
Our steeds revive, faster they go — 

Madly they bear us hence! 
Cries of the foe come nearer us, 

Distinctly sounds their drum; 
We falter, they are close to us — 

Thanks ! we rest in thy bosom ! 



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